


On The Faded Side of The Photograph

by wordswithinmoments



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baker!Reader - Freeform, Businessman!Akaashi, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Osamu being cute lmao, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25316668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswithinmoments/pseuds/wordswithinmoments
Summary: Long engagements are something that never came between you and Akaashi, but, conflicts in your career, life plans, and his interests just might. This is a story to remind you of the importance in walking your own path, even if it means reconsidering the things you thought were the final choices for you.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Reader, Akaashi Keiji/Reader, Miya Osamu & Reader, Miya Osamu/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 248





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist for this song is Lennon Stella's Older Than I Am, and Nick Wilson's All The Same :D
> 
> ya girl back at it again with the angst <3
> 
> this is crossposted on my tumblr (myelocin) :D

You suppose you don’t second guess the time you’ve spent with Akaashi at all. All the decisions, both small and big—and frankly everything in between were all a sentimental in a way for you. After more than a decade of growing _and_ involving yourselves with each other, as you sit across from him now your heart starts to flutter in familiarity and the nostalgic atmosphere that settled in.

The both of you are seated on a table on the far left end of a café that’s situated in the quieter streets of Shibuya and you could laugh because it feels a little familiar. You meet his gaze from across the table and offer a smile as a response. You know he’s being quiet because he’s in his thoughts—and you know that because you can see his pointer finger tapping against the rim of his coffee mug and take note of the slight crease in his forehead. He has the same look when he tries to negotiate with his boss for a raise, you remember.

You _know_ he’s always been a rather calculated person.

And true to your silent impressions, Akaashi _is_ aware that he’s tapping on the glass a little too rhythmically for it to be just an idle action, and he can feel the creases in his forehead take form, but he can’t _help_ it because the more he rehearses what to say to say to you, the more he finds himself scrapping out his ideas of _how_ to begin.

So for the first few minutes, he sighs and settles in his chair and blinks at you. He takes the smile you offered him and returns it. And he _means_ it, because he’s happy in the fact that you seem to be doing well. Akaashi can confidently come to that conclusion because the way you smile at him is one that reminded him of the simpler days he spent with you almost half a decade ago. Sitting across him he saw patience and kindness, so he knew you must be at a point in life where you are at peace so he parts his lips and breaks the silence, “How have you been?”

And you set your coffee mug down, the ring on your left ring finger catching the sun’s light as you reply with another smile and say, “I’m fine.”

-

_Four years ago._

If someone were to ask Akaashi Keiji if he was happy, he wouldn’t hesitate to answer with a _“yes”._ After all, his job was paying him well, his hours weren’t _too_ harsh, and his long term fiancé, _you_ , always had his back for everything.

All in all, it was safe to say that Akaashi was _happy—_ but he wasn’t _content._

There was _always_ something he could do better. Whether it be getting the promotion he’d been eyeing at his job, moving into a new area with a _bigger_ apartment, or upgrading the stone on the ring he proposed to you with—he just _knew_ he could do _more._

On the other hand, you were both content _and_ happy. Life was treating the both of you well. Despite not following the career path with the degree you finished, your sideline baking business finally had the potential to be your main source of living. The apartment you shared with Akaashi always smelt like fresh bread on weekdays and chocolate cake on weekends. Your boyfriend always made it in time for your weekly date nights and he was always responsible enough during company parties so there was never a need for you to pick him up in case he drank a little _too_ much at those events.

During the six years you were together—there never came a dull moment.

Meeting him was thanks to Bokuto, a mutual friend you and Akaashi shared. The relationship as lovers that the two of you shared wasn’t automatic—you had become good friends with him at first: mostly bonding about your mutual worry towards Bokuto’s tendency to get a little _too_ energized or a little _too_ deep in his sad boy hours during particularly hard losses. After the “friends” stage, the rest, flowed quite naturally.

Having Akaashi as a partner, you considered yourself to have hit quite _the_ jackpot. He was a gentleman. Always kind, attentive, and never pushed you past your boundaries. Being with him felt natural—he made it so easy to love.

Every first you had, you shared _with_ him, and you think it made the space in your heart reserved for him grow even fonder. Four years into the relationship, Akaashi asked you to marry him two years ago during a winter afternoon in Nara. He found a less crowded corner in Nara Park and knelt down on one knee with a ring he dedicated his overtimes for sparkling in his hand, his eyes looking hopeful. And the soft _yes_ felt natural as it tumbled from your lips before he could even get the question out.

Akaashi always smiles when he looks at the Polaroid he keeps in his wallet to remind him of that day. You always comment that you look a little silly from the layers of your scarf, and that he should have picked another photo in place of that—but he likes to think that with your cheeks and nose flushing pink from the cold air, and the way you beam as you proudly latch yourself onto his arm while showing off the ring, you’re at your most beautiful.

You knew Akaashi worked hard and always strived at what he does, especially at work, because he always expresses that he wants the _best_ for the both of you—for the future you two hold. And every day, you still never fail to assure him that you’re happy with where you are in life. That for as long as you have him, _and quite realistically the basic necessities in life,_ it would _always_ be enough for you.

Being engaged with him for two years didn’t come as much of a struggle, when you think of it. A small wedding would have sufficed more than enough for you, frankly, but Akaashi always argued that he could provide for _more._ He was quite solid on that thought for the longest time and you could never bring yourself to argue with him on that matter for too long anyway.

Over the years, the change in Akaashi’s drive was evident. The fact that you were proud of _him,_ the things he’s _done,_ what he _’_ s _doing,_ and whatever he _will be_ , will remain unchanged. And you remember that, because you love him. And you know he does too, because every time he changes his wallet to a brand that you know is more expensive than the last—the old Polaroid of the two of you remains in the same spot every single time. The way he fondly looks at it too—remains unchanged.

And that assurance has always been more than enough.

-

You have never been the type to enjoy parties that much.

Akaashi, you knew merely attended those events for the sake of the promotion he’d been aiming for lately. His boss, as he explained before, was someone you could _easily talk to_. Apparently it was only a matter of getting in his good graces to be the prime candidate of getting a raise or a promotion. His coworkers knew that fact and always made it a point to go to those parties for a chance to sweet talk the man who could make it happen, and Akaashi did the same. Knowing him, he had a smooth tongue and quite the way with words, so you knew he was a worthy candidate for the position he was vying for.

What surprised you, though, was during one particular week he decided to forego the weekly date night you two reserved for each other. He had come home in a rush and told you to get dressed because he had to bring a date for that night’s company party, and apologized for him telling you rather last minute. You remember trying to ignore that he didn’t mention that he was sorry for missing date night. Having already changed for what you expected as going out with Akaashi, you assured him that it was fine and that you were technically ready anyway.

Akaashi stared at you and you could immediately tell he was struggling with how to say his next sentence—but you were smart, and he knew, because he instantly looked guilty when you said you’d change into something a little more appropriate.

“On the way home I actually picked up something for you to wear.” He said, and you stop walking towards the bedroom and blinked at him with a questioning look.

_Ah, so that’s why he was running late._

The thought that he took it upon himself to buy an outfit for you to wear in _advance_ , as if he already decided that the clothes you owned weren’t fitting enough, irked you a little more than you liked. _But,_ the voice of consistent reasoning in your head chided, _he’s just doing this because he cares._ And that alone promptly shut you up for the rest of the night.

-

Taking a peek at Akaashi’s work life was something new for you. During the time you knew him, he had always been quite good at balancing his work and personal life. Sure, there were those moments where the two of you would be talking about work, but it would never be more than just a passing topic in your conversations.

Watching Akaashi interact in this unfamiliar space in his life first hand was eye opening for you. At home, he was _much_ more relaxed. Often he giggled along to the cat videos you’d watch with him, and he’d always look somewhat _softer_ around you. It was understandable, though. After all, this _was_ a professional place and he _is_ in a way surrounded by potential competition for the position he was working hard for.

Seeing him in this light, had you feeling rather, _small._ And you know it wasn’t intentional on his part, but you couldn’t help but stumble on your heels half the night and feel slightly choked by the high collar of your dress. Then again, the consolation for all of that awkwardness was the fact that Akaashi’s steady hand remained on your back—and it was always enough to assure you that he was _right there._

Akaashi made it a point to ask how you were doing from time to time, and you appreciated the gesture enough to reply to him with a reassuring squeeze to the hand and a smile.

At some point you begin to drop hints that it’s getting a bit late and maybe the two of you should head home but he only sits you down at the table where his boss is currently downing a glass of wine. Akaashi squeezes your leg and gives you a soft look before you notice him reassuming his practiced poise as he turns to start conversing with his coworkers on the table.

You sit next to him and stitch a smile because even if your feet were aching, neck a little irritated and your skin itchy from the fabric—you couldn’t help but want to appear as regal as Akaashi looked in his fitted suit and smoldering eyes. You knew he was doing this for the sake of the both of your future, and relationships _did_ mean a little sacrifice—right?

Which was exactly why you decided to swallow your thoughts and choice comments with how the next few events transpired.

It started like this: Akaashi’s coworkers asking him to introduce his date, _you_ , to everybody. Akaashi smiles in the same softness like he does when it’s just the two of you, _which you undoubtedly swoon at,_ and entangles his fingers with yours as he lifts it up and shows everyone the ring he proposed to you with two years ago.

“My fiancé, (y/n).” He says, and your heart swells because he sounds proud.

Someone, who you assume to be another coworker of his asks him how the two of you meet so you begin to open your mouth to reply, after feeling a little more comfortable, but Akaashi beats you to it by swiftly replying, “Through a mutual friend back in university.”

You smile and nod in confirmation as his friend looks in your direction after noticing you got cut off. “The rest was history!” You added.

Satisfied with your answer, Akaashi’s boss speaks next, and you instantly feel your fiancé’s posture stiffen next to you.

“You have a beautiful one, Akaashi-san, you ought to treat her well.” He says with a light tone.

“I intend to, sir.” Came Akaashi’s reply.

“So, (y/n)-san,” His boss turns to face you, “What do you do for work?”

“I have a little business where I bake.” You reply, smiling. Akaashi’s boss looks at between you and Akaashi, nodding his head, then repeating your words in exclamation, _“Baking!”_

“It’s only a sideline thing—“Akaashi quickly interrupts, and you notice his voice is a _little_ amplified, “—she’s reviewing for the nursing licensure exam at the moment, and baking is just her little hobby.”

It was then that you can’t help but notice how quickly he added that in the conversation. By this time, his boss had already moved on from the conversation and began talking with someone else to his right, but you could still feel how Akaashi’s hold on your hand tightened just a little bit more.

It was odd, you had talked to him about this before. You already expressed your loss of interest in fully pursuing nursing for so long now—plus your little baking sideline has took off and is _definitely_ paying the bills, if that was what he’s worried about. _Is Akaashi ashamed of what I do?_

“(Y/n), you bake? I should place an order!” The woman across you says, to which you quickly nod at ready to give your contact details until Akaashi smoothly cuts into the conversation again, saying, “You should order soon. She’ll be a nurse and won’t have time for those orders soon enough.”

The woman laughs at Akaashi’s comment and shoots a smile in your direction, _which you returned,_ and continued conversing with the others.

Akaashi’s grip on your hand from under the table remains, and he squeezes time to time but you can’t find it in you to return them. You stay quiet for the remainder of the event, only smiling and nodding along to the conversations you can never find the right break to enter. You aren’t sure if Akaashi notices the slight change in your mood, but you try to avoid his gaze for the rest of the night so you can’t bring yourself to a hypothesis on that matter either. Then again, you aren’t sure if you wanted to know.

For the first time that night, even as you sat down—you felt a little alone and small. Despite Akaashi’s hand guiding you throughout it all, you can’t help but only notice the fact that you’re stumbling in the shoes he bought that were a little too big for you to fill.

-

You try to not think too much about what he said for the remainder of the night as the two of you made it home. Akaashi chooses to stay silent in the car on the ride home and you decide to face the window and watch the passing scenery for the time being.

The atmosphere, even as the two of you made it inside remained odd. Akaashi wasn’t _dumb._ He could tell something was up, but just wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. And like him, you _could tell_ he was struggling to start a conversation, but unfortunately for him, in the moment you felt too petty to initiate anything.

After some awkward shuffling, Akaashi breaks the silence, saying, “I think when Abe-san spilled her drink earlier, it got into my wallet. Everything’s soaked.”

Inwardly you huff at the topic he opens with, but figure an argument was the last thing the already tense atmosphere needed, so you humor him.

“Did you have cash inside? That wallet’s getting old, anyway. Maybe you should change it.” You say, peeking over his shoulder to look at the wallet he’s holding.

“I didn’t have cash with me, thankfully.” He says, placing the contents of his wallet into the table.

Sitting down across him, you look at the familiar Polaroid sitting on top of his cards, the side, _your side_ , being a little damp. “You still have this picture? It got a little wet.” You ask raising it up for him to see.

“Yeah, but I was thinking we can take a new one soon. For when you take the exam next month. That’s exciting, right?” He replies from across the kitchen, his back facing you.

You scrunch your eyebrows together and stare at his back. “Keiji I wasn’t planning on taking it next month.”

He turns to face you. “What do you mean? I’m not rushing you, (y/n), I’m sorry if it seemed like I was.” He walks towards you and takes a seat on the chair next to the one you’re occupying. “You can take it whenever you feel ready.”

The look he has is as tender as it always had been, and he takes your hands in his, raising them to kiss your knuckles.

“What if,” you start with hesitance, “—I don’t want to ever take it Keiji? What I’m doing now is making me happy.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, and then proceeds to cut you off as you begin to open your mouth to explain, “I mean isn’t this what we planned before? You don’t have to worry about when, (y/n), I know you can do it.”

“I can’t wait to get married, (y/n).” He says.

“We can get married now, Keiji, we’re in a good place.” You suggest, and look straight at him. “We’re still getting to where we wanna get, though.” Akaashi replies softly, takes a slight pause, and then continues, “We’re just not _enough_ right now. Once I get that promotion and once you pass your licensure exam, (y/n). We can get there. I believe in us.”

And the look in his eyes sparkle in a way that made your stomach tie itself into knots. The smile you shoot at him feels a little strained, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the look he has doesn’t falter. You want to retort with, “ _Is what I’m doing now not enough for you? Is the **me** you’re with currently not enough for you?” _but his thumb is brushing your cheek softly and Akaashi looks _so_ hopeful that the argument suddenly dies on your lips.

 _Maybe this can be a conversation for another day,_ you decide.

Akaashi takes your silence as agreement so he stands up, stretching a little, then bends down to place a kiss at the crown of your head before walking towards the direction of the bedroom. “It’s getting late, (y/n), we should get some sleep. You can throw out the other things I left there, I only needed my credit cards.”

You nod and stand up to gather the mess in the table but immediately notice that the photograph was left behind. _Did he want me to throw this away too? He was sitting **right there** , and he would have grabbed it if he didn’t want to throw it away, _you thought to yourself.

You look at the photo of the two of you, the edges on your side beginning to smear a little from the spilled wine and sigh. You pocket it with the reminder to try to remedy it another day.

That night when you finally settle in bed next to him, Akaashi wraps you in his arms and tells you, “ _I love you so much. I can’t wait for when things finally play out with how they’re supposed to.”_ And you lie there with your back pressed against his chest, your eyes staring at nothing in the dark before you eventually swallow the lump in your throat, and close your eyes to think about the photograph that you kept from being thrown away. Akaashi looked as happy as you did in Nara, and in the darkness your heart swells at the memory—so you feel for his hand, gave it a gentle squeeze before responding, “I love you too.”

You dream of that winter afternoon you shared with Akaashi in Nara two years ago, your heart beating warmly in your chest for the first time that day.

-

The days after the party doesn’t necessarily feel heavy. Akaashi doesn’t mention anything and goes on with his usual routine like nothing even happened. Eventually, you fall back into your routine too—the night of the party and the conversation that transpired afterwards pushed to the back of your head.

About a month had passed, the date in the calendar getting eerily close to the day of the examination that you _had absolutely no plan_ of taking, and you’re thankful Akaashi doesn’t mention it. The morning of the supposed exam, he leaves for work with a kiss to the cheek and mumbled a barely audible “ _good luck”_ right before slipping out of the door. The morning fog still hadn’t cleared from your head so you scrunched your nose in confusion until realization eventually dawned on you. _Oh right,_ you realized, _he probably thinks I’m taking the exam today._

Though to be fair on your part, you never mentioned that you would be taking it today. _Or ever,_ came the afterthought.

Akaashi comes home that night with a box of pastries from the bakery you know is across his office. From the kitchen, you crane your neck to catch a peek at him and shout out, “ _Okaeri!”_ from your spot. He walks towards you, setting the box down on the opposite side of the kitchen island and makes his way around to kiss your cheek, saying, “ _Tadaima.”_

“You seem a happy today, good day at work?” You ask looking up at him. Akaashi’s eyes were a little bit brighter today, the usual gun metal blue gleaming with something you can’t quite place—but decide you adore anyway.

“Something like that.” He replies, snaking his arms around your middle. You laugh at him squeezing your midriff and pat his hand away. “Keiji, you’re gonna make me mess up the batter.” You laugh out, sifting the last bit of the flour into the bowl.

“Why are you baking so late?” He says after he finally releases you and settles into a new position by walking around the island and taking a seat at one of the chairs that’s facing you.

“I have good news too.” You say.

“Yeah?” Akaashi replies, while leaning forward and propping himself up with his elbows. He motions for you to lean closer, and you shoot him a smile as he wipes off the bit of flour that found its way to your cheek. “Tell me about your day, love.” He says, returning your smile.

Your smile stretches wider, so you say, “You know that couple that ordered a cake for their anniversary the other day?” Akaashi hums in response, settling back into his seat.

“Well, turns out the guests they had at their party really liked it so I got a _bunch_ —“ you pause to emphasize your words, to which Akaashi smiles at, then continue, “—of orders, so now I’m _completely_ booked for this week and the next!”

Akaashi watches you pour the batter into the pan and feel himself ride along with your enthusiasm—plus, he had an _excellent_ day at work too. “It’s good that you’re enjoying your little hobby, (y/n). I’m happy to see you this excited.” Akaashi chuckles.

You ignored the little emphasis on “little hobby”. It was probably unintentional, and it just _came out like that,_ you thought. _Plus,_ Akaashi looked adorable sitting with his head propped up with his hands, watching you as he nibbled on the extra slices of strawberry left over from what you were making.

After closing the oven, you take a seat across from your fiancé and mimic his position. “So,” you begin, “how was _your_ day?”

You knew Akaashi as a man who upholds an _extremely_ professional aura when he was in his element, so you figured it was nice to see him be a lot more relaxed in the home you two shared. Reaching forward, you wiped a little bit of the cream that smudged on the side of his cheek and offered him another strawberry. “It was _really_ good, (y/n).” He says, smiling as he accepts the fruit and bites into it.

“You keep saying it’s _really good_ , Keiji, but you won’t tell me more. What’s up?” You laugh. He didn’t tease often, and his jokes were on the rarer side, but light conversation like this was one of your favorites to have with him.

“I wanna know how your exam went first, (y/n), do you feel good about it?” He asks.

Inwardly, you slumped. You should have _known_ the conversation was building up to that. For a moment, you consider of steering the topic elsewhere but then sigh, because at _some_ point you were bound to talk about it, so first you shift a little awkwardly in your seat, and then reply, “I didn’t take it today, Kei.”

He stops munching on the fruit and looks at you, his eyes softening. “Were you nervous?” He pauses to take your hand in his, “That’s okay there’s always next exam. No need to pressure yourself, love.”

There must have been a telltale sign that you were nervous because Akaashi’s hand squeezes to comfort yours, and for split second you feel bad for relaxing because of something that was intended to comfort something else. But your whole body relaxes at his touch, and he proceeds to rub circles on the back of your hand.

“If you fai-“ He began.

“I don’t plan on taking it _at all_ , Keiji.” You cut him off. His eyebrows scrunch when he looks at you. “Is something wrong? I thought this was our plan, (y/n).”

The tone of his voice is hesitant and laced with _genuine_ confusion, so you sigh. “I’m sorry, Kei, I just-“ you pause to sigh again. His thumb stopped tracing circles on your hand. “—I can’t _see_ myself doing that now. My degree will always be there, if I need a plan B, but now I’m happy with what I’m doing.”

Akaashi still looks confused when he retracts his hand from yours and hold on to the rim of the plate next to him instead. “I thought that was just a _small ho-_ “

“—Don’t finish that sentence, please.” You swiftly cut him off.

In his defense, he still looks a little confused, but he closes his mouth sensing the warning tone of your voice. The two of you allow the silence to pass before he eventually sighs. “(Y/n), I’m sorry.”

He looks up to meet your eyes and you sigh, your body relaxing at the tender look he’s offering you. “I hope you can accept my decision, Keiji. Despite this—“ You motion to the mess you have yet to clean in the kitchen, “—still being small and _just_ starting out, I’m happy. I hope you can understand that.”

Akaashi nods and holds his hand back out to grab yours and sigh at the touch. For a few minutes, the two of you revel in the new found silence, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand again, and you squeezing his from time to time. The room felt warm and the scent of fresh chocolate wafted in the air. To you, it smelt like home, and to Akaashi—it just smelt like a room.

“What good news happened at work today, Keiji?” You ask, this time being the one to initiate the conversation. At your voice, he perked up, the mood from the previous conversation immediately absent. You smiled.

“I did it, (y/n),” He stood up and made his way around the kitchen to stand in front of you, the smile never wilting from his face, “I got the promotion!”

At his words, you immediately stand up and capture him in an embrace. “You did?” You felt him return your hug as he tightened his arms around you and drop his head into the crook of your shoulder. He nodded his affirmation and you felt your smile stretch _even_ wider at this point. You could tell he was grinning, from the way his body seemed to vibrate with excitement and you can’t help but do the same as well.

Pulling back after some moments passed, you took Akaashi’s face and cradled it in between your hands then looked at him. “I’m so proud of you.” You say, and he leans in to your touch, smiling at your words.

“Are they gonna give you a new office? You always talk about how you hate how cramped your current one is.” You laugh, the tone of your voice finally mellowing into the newly established atmosphere.

“About that,” Akaashi begins as he releases his hold on you and motions you to take a seat. “The promotion _is_ definitely going to give me a bigger office, the paycheck’s _way_ better too, and I—no, we, get a lot of benefits…”

He’s trailing off, and you notice that, so you reach out to give his hand a squeeze. It didn’t really occur to you that he was shifting his gaze to look at everything else, _but_ you, so you trail your hand up and cup his cheek. “You’re rambling, Kei.”

The expression he holds doesn’t fly past you and you could _feel_ his hesitance, but you nod at him to continue anyway, so he does—slowly, “I got offered for a temporary transfer to Spain.”

“Spain?” You repeat.

Akaashi doesn’t let your touch on his cheek go lax as he automatically reached up and cupped your hand—keeping it firm against his cheek.

“Spain.” He reaffirms.

-

It’s funny how hyperaware you become of your surroundings in the silence. Like now, you can hear the slow tick of the timer above the fridge getting ready to tell you that the cake’s done baking, the tap of the water dripping to the sink because you forgot to shut the faucet tight enough earlier, or how deep your breathing is—while Akaashi’s seem to be unchanged.

You open your mouth with the intention of saying “ _Spain?”_ again, but instead you hear yourself asking, “How long?”

Akaashi leans on the side of the kitchen island, his profile facing you, and replies, “The contract’s for three years, (y/n).”

“Three years.” You nod, frankly still unable to _fully_ process what he’s telling you. Akaashi doesn’t offer an explanation and stays silent, and after some minutes pass, you hear the background noise begin to amplify again. Tentatively, you look up and stare at Akaashi’s side profile and ask, “What’s gonna happen now?”

He turns his head to meet you and squats down in front of you, taking your hands in his. “We can do it, (y/n), just three more years, and we’ll finally get married.”

“Keiji three years is a _long_ time.” You quickly reply.

“Maybe,” he starts but stops and you notice him biting his bottom lip—a nervous habit. _He doesn’t know what to say._ “—maybe, this is the time for us to figure out thin-“

“What do you _mean_ , Keiji? Figure out _what_?” You cut him off, your tone a little heavier this time.

“We’ve kind of gone off of our original plan, (y/n).” Akaashi says slowly, “You were supposed to be a nurse by now, and I was supposed to be _making_ more—we could _finally_ get that wedding and life we want.” He pauses, looking at you—and you for a brief second you see a stranger staring back at you. “I want to give you the world, my love.” He finishes.

“Keiji, I’m happy with where we are.” You exhale, leaning down to press your forehead against his—your eyes closing. “I love _you_ and _this._ We may have gone off track, but _this_ is our life and every day I still feel like I have more than the world.”

The silence envelops the two of you again, and you feel yourself vibe along—the atmosphere feeling a lot calmer this time.

“But this still isn’t _enough_ , (y/n).” Akaashi confesses, the volume of his voice ringing loud in the quiet. You lean back after hearing his words and scrunch your eyebrows, looking at him. “What isn’t enough, Keiji?”

“Just,” He sighs, standing up, “ _this._ ” In between his words Akaashi gestures to the space around the two of you—and you suddenly feel small. “It’s just, we could do _so much_ more.”

Akaashi seems more than convinced at his words and the look he has on his face briefly takes you back to the night of his company party. You felt small again. “Am I not enough, Kei?” You ask, your voice quiet—but your gaze steady as it clashed with his.

“No,” he was quick to reply, you noted. “—God _no,_ (y/n), you’re always going to be _more_ than enough. I’m doing this for _us._ This is all for us.” He finishes, and his eyebrows are furrowed. He looks confused at your reaction, and genuinely, it’s the same case for you too—you’re confused at _his._

“We can do it. Three years, and something _good_ could come out for this. I don’t wanna be apart from you, (y/n), _trust me_ —“ he emphasizes and pulls at your hands to get you to stand up with him. “—but I have no choice, if we want the best for us—for the _future._ ” 

“Keiji, I know you mean well and I know you work so hard for the both of us but _I am too._ I know this is just a small thing compared to you, but this is for _us too._ ” You retort, fighting through the lump in your throat.

Akaashi looks at you, bewildered, but before he could say something which you _know_ will be the finality in the conversation, you talk to get your point across, “What do you mean you have no choice, Keiji?”

“You _always_ have a choice.” You continue, your volume rising. The background noise fades, and all you hear is how labored your breathing suddenly is.

“(Y/n), you _know_ this is for us. I have _no choice_ if we want this for our future, to be _happy._ I’ll marry you in three years, I promise.” Akaashi tries to compromise.

“That’s the point!” You exclaim, “You _have_ a choice, Keiji. Every day that you wake up and _do_ something, that’s you making a choice. When the both of us continue to choose to be with each other every day, that’s _our_ choice. Why are you talking in circles?”

You let yourself pause and breathe for some time after, and Akaashi stays silent while watching you.

“You don’t want me to go.” He says, after silence passes.

“I don’t, Keiji.” He hears you reply.

“But this is a big deal, (y/n), I could finally—no we,” He says, the resolve in his voice cracking. You stand in front of him, keeping silent. “—we _really_ have no choice if we want to be happy—“

“ _Stop_ putting words in my mouth as if I’m not happy with what we have and where we are, Keiji.” You say, cutting him off.

He ignores your rebuttal and continues—him facing you, but opting to look _past_ you. “We can always get married when I get back, but this promotion is a big deal for _me,_ no, _fuck_ I meant—“

“No, Kei,” you cup his cheek to make him face you fully, “You meant this is a big deal for you. And that’s okay. I understand.”

“Why can’t you choose _us_ this time, Kei?” You ask.

The weight of your question fails to dawn on him because he’s suddenly grasping the sides of your arms and looking at you—hopeful. And your heart squeezes in a way that’s painful because he suddenly looks so _far away._ “You know this could mean the _world_ for us, my love.”

“And what does our relationship mean for you, Keiji?”

“I already signed the contract.” He confesses, and for the second time that night, his voice seems to echo in the room.

You hear the steady tick of the timer counting down the seconds, and the tap on the sink again. Your breaths eventually evened out and you look at Akaashi—his expression mirroring yours; unreadable.

“I see. So you already made your choice.” You say, and he only nods once before muttering something along the lines of “ _sleeping at Bokuto’s tonight, we need space to think.”_

While he was in the room your eyes eventually land on the box of pastries he brought home earlier. Recognizing the label, you grimaced. “ _Keiji knows I hate cheesecake._ ”, you think before remembering his efforts to _try_ to get you to like the dessert from the past few months. _Sorry to disappoint,_ you bitterly think, _I still will hate cheese as much as I hate the thought of taking that exam._

The sound of a backpack zipping close was loud in the quiet, and you hear his keys rattle along with the door shutting close—announcing his departure.

The timer above the fridge dings and you feel yourself finally break down into a soft cry.

-

It shouldn’t have surprised you to see him angry after the confrontation, you tell yourself. _But,_ comes the voice in your head, _you deserve to feel angry too._ And you are. The night after the conversation, you sleep out in the living room—despite Akaashi not being in the apartment _at all_ , you felt too suffocated to be in a space that was _so him._

So for the rest of that night you decided to binge watch your comfort movies, _a majority of them being Studio Ghibli_ _films_ , and sobbing into a tub of ice cream. Bokuto had texted you that Akaashi was at his place and that he was going to send him home tomorrow so the both of you could talk things through, and you reply with a _thank you_ and a reminder for Akaashi to drink some water before he slept. He often forgot to stay hydrated, to the point of it worrying you. Like now. You’re supposed to be fighting and heartbroken, but despite sobbing through another tub of ice cream, you _still_ text Bokuto to make sure Akaashi’s drinking his water.

And that’s _completely okay._ Because that’s your choice. Every day you wake up and choose to love and run the extra mile because you _love_ Akaashi. Because he is _always_ going to be in your best interest—even if it irritates you to no end at times.

So that’s why, the very next day, when you hear his keys rattle against the door knob and see him finally enter, you make the choice to not glare at him from your spot in the living room. Akaashi chooses to not meet your stare and instead walks towards you, taking a seat some distance away from where you’re sitting on the couch.

“You slept here last night.” He says, his eyes settling on the blankets strewn across the space. You nod and mumble _yup._

“We need to talk, (y/n).” Akaashi comments.

“We do.” You agree.

“You know I love you—right?” He says slower this time, and looks up at you. He doesn’t meet your gaze and you could tell he’s staring at the wall behind you. _He’s nervous,_ you conclude.

“I know.” You reply, the tone of your voice a lot calmer than last night—you noted.

“I already accepted the offer, and it would be stupid to back out now.” He’s says and he’s still staring at the wall behind you.

“You didn’t even _talk_ to me Keiji.” You say, and you inwardly praise yourself for not letting your voice crack.

“Because it wouldn’t change my decision, (y/n).” Akaashi says then looks at you, before flinching with you at his own words. “No,” he sighs, “I-“

“No.” You repeat, firmly. “It wouldn’t because you’ve already made your choice to not even try to hear me out, Kei. You already made the _fucking_ choice to not consider the fact that I can _have plans too_ , Kei—so of course, it wouldn’t make a _fucking difference._ ”

He shifts his eyes and stares past you again. You close your eyes, sighing.

“Why can’t you be happy about this? This is for us, (y/n). Everything I’ve done so far is _for us._ ” Akaashi silently pleads, but he’s still looking past you and he feels _so_ far away again.

“Even leaving for three years? Without talking about it first? Is it really for _us,_ Kei?”

The softness of your tone has him looking at you, and the look reflected in his eyes suddenly have you choking up. Up until now, you’ve pulled yourself together quite well—but Akaashi, like always, never fails to find a way to break through those barriers.

It surprises you when you begin to finally break down, and it must have done the same for him too—because like you, he’s suddenly holding his face in his palms and letting out soft sobs that are mirroring yours.

“Everything is for _us,_ (y/n), _please believe me._ ” He pleads.

“I _believe_ you, but why can’t you get what I’m _trying_ to say?” You reply, looking at him furiously trying to wipe the tears. “Can’t you just say what you really are trying to say, Kei?”

“What do you _want_ me to say, (y/n)?!” He bursts, “That I’m sorry _you_ didn’t push through with what we planned, (y/n). I’m _sorry_ I’m sacrificing something for _us_!”

“But why can’t you fucking see that what you’re sacrificing is _our relationship_? You said yes to leaving us for _three years_ , Keiji. Without a second thought. And that _hurts._ ” You yell, your tone heightening to match his.

Akaashi wipes his eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie he’s wearing and walks towards you, dropping to his knees in front of your spot in the couch and takes your hands in his. You feel his hands shake in time with his sobs, and it has you crying even harder.

“I love you, (y/n), more than anything.” He whispers as he presses his forehead on your right hand. Your left hand—the one with the ring settles on top of his head and you brush out the tangles in his hair. “I love you, too, Keiji—so _much_.”

“We can make this work, (y/n), we’re strong enough right?” Akaashi says, his voice muffled but still heard. You always have heard him.

“We’re strong enough for anything, Kei.” You reply.

“And after three years, when we’re _both_ happy—you can finally walk down the aisle, with a bigger ring and I’ll be at a place to give us everything we deserve. We can _do_ it, (y/n).” Akaashi mumbles into your hand again.

The ring he proposed to you with halts in your line of vision and you sigh, shaking, as the tears still keep streaming heavy. Biting your lip, you lean down and kiss the crown of his head and sigh—he smells like that expensive bottle of cologne you recall only smelling in samples at the mall. You hear him muttering something about _waiting just three more years,_ and _we can finally be happy_ —and your heart squeezes even more as you feel a fresh wave of tears come over you.

The both of you sit in that position: Akaashi with his face buried on your lap, muttering about the happiness for the both of you in the _future_ that’s _so close_ for you both at this point, and you’re running your hands through the strands of his hair, looking at your ring—blurred through the tears and crying at the memory of how Akaashi looked in Nara two years ago. And just like that, realization dawns on you and your heart clenches even tighter that is you grabbing his face and making him face you. “Keiji, look at me, _please._ ”

He sniffles and looks at you, his cheek leaning against the warmth of your palms and his eyes red and glassy from the stream of tears.

“Kei, what do I usually order if we go to a bakery together?” You ask, voice a little hoarse, but still soft.

He looks at you in confusion, but replies anyway, “I always get you the cheesecake because you said you wanted to try to see if you would end up liking cheese.”

“That’s right.” You smile, then sniffle as your thumb rubs his cheek, “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner that I really can’t stand cheese.”

Akaashi looks into your eyes this time, and you find yourself sort of wishing he’s staring into the wall because the way he’s looking at you has you crying even harder. “Kei, ask me something about you.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, still looking confused, but he’s reaching up to cup your face and wipe the tears that are still falling.

“Please.” You say, and he relents. “What’s my usual coffee order then?”

You try to think about it for some seconds and then answer, “You like to order a caramel macchiato.”

Akaashi, still confused, pinches your cheek and corrects you, “I _used_ to like ordering that (y/n), you know I just like my coffee black now.”

“I don’t, Kei,” you whisper, the sinking feeling in your stomach confirming your suspicions, “I didn’t know that you changed the usual. I got used to what you used to like.”

He looks at you, trying to decipher the meaning behind your words but fails and leans up instead to press a kiss on your closed eyelids. “Why are we asking each other this, love?”

“Because I don’t think we know each other anymore, Kei.” You reply, still sniffling through your words. Akaashi shoots you a questioning look, but keeps wiping away the new set of tears that trickle down the sides of your face. “I am _so_ proud of you, and everything that you accomplished, my love.” You tell him, your thumbs swiping to wipe away his tears too. “And I _know_ you’re going to do so much more, but I think we began to love just the _ideas_ of us.”

Akaashi looks at you, staying silent, so you will yourself to continue, “You’re in love with the _me_ in the future. I know you dream of that life where I finally become that person we talked about before, but I’m sorry I made a turn Kei—“

“No don’t say that—“

“It’s _okay._ ” You reassure him, pressing a kiss on his forehead. He doesn’t point out that your lips are trembling. “And I keep thinking of the Keiji from two years ago who watches cat videos with me, and took polaroids of every bench in Nara because he thought it was pretty. He told me he loved me every morning and that he’s happy.”

“I miss him, Kei.” You finally confess.

Akaashi feels himself inhale shakily and cry again. “I’m sorry, (y/n).”

“No,” you smile, “I never want you to be sorry for becoming your own person. You always will deserve the things that you feel will make you happy.”

“And you do too, (y/n).” Akaashi finally says, his chest heaving at the weight of his words. The both of you are still crying.

The silence stays for a while and you can hear the fan in the back whirring along with yours and Akaashi’s sniffling. You figure the silence in the moment is okay, and you wish you could stay in it, because in that second alone, you’re still in a world where Akaashi is yours—and you, his. But it takes a few more seconds of swimming in that in between before he meets your eyes—gunmetal blue turned glassy red, and says slowly, “Is this it?”

And the lump in your throat is uncomfortable because you let out a sob in time with his—and your heart _hurts_ because the realization that dawned on the both of you _hurts._

“I don’t know, Kei,” you say, “I don’t _want_ this to be it.”

“Can’t we still try?” He asks, and you know he’s nervous and grasping at straws because his eyes are darting between yours and his hands are on yours, fiddling with the ring he put there two years ago.

“Can you make a compromise?” You ask, but he hangs his head low at your question and you look up—trying to fruitlessly push even more tears back because you know his answer. But Akaashi is crying when he says _“I’m sorry.”,_ so the dam breaks and you cry even more.

“It’s okay, I can never live with myself if you’re not happy, Kei.” You say and this time he doesn’t try to correct you because it must have dawned on him that he’s not happy anymore either.

So when he tells you, _it hurts,_ you let him pull you into his chest and automatically wrap your arms around his frame nodding in agreement to his words. You feel the ring on your finger and close your eyes when you feel him press kisses on the side of your forehead—and this time, you feel his lips shaking.

You open your mouth to tell him an _I love you_ , but stop yourself because the image that flashes behind your eyes is the photo of Akaashi in the polaroid he thought was thrown away. Flush against you, Akaashi does the same: opening his mouth to find the words to assure you, _and him_ with, but his _I love you_ is cut off abruptly when he realizes the words he was going to follow up with. _I can’t wait to see us get to where we can go,_ Akaashi realizes he’s about to say so he drops his head on your shoulder, and tells you, _I’m sorry_ , instead.

And you nod against his embrace because you both realize the reality that you both avoided to swallow this whole time. You tell yourself that the past disagreements could have just been _conversations you can have for another day_ , because you’re still in love with the Akaashi Keiji from the photograph taken two years ago—and Akaashi always looks at the wall behind you because he realizes that _deep down_ , he’s come across the thought that he’s in love with the person you _will be_ two, or three years from now.

The both of you swallow the lump in your throat and let out a cry together, because despite _everything hurting,_ the thought finally dawns that at this point—neither of you are in love with the present anymore.

-

You can’t find it in you to hold it against him when Bokuto comes to the apartment a few days later in the week and asks if you’re okay instead of Akaashi. You see him fumbling with his words and humor his attempt of starting a lighter conversation, but still step aside because you know he’s here to get Akaashi’s things.

Bokuto looks at you watching him lingering in the doorway of you and Akaashi’s shared bedroom as he packs Akaashi’s belongings into two suitcases and a spare box. He looks at you, and ever the empathetic person he always is, you see pricks of fresh tears grace the sides of his eyes as he crosses the room and wraps you in an embrace.

“You both did well.” He says, and you bite your lip fighting back tears, but he catches that and wraps you in an even tighter embrace rubbing circles on your back. “It’s okay, you can let it out.”

So you do as he suggests, because reality hits that you’re standing in a room watching his best friend pack more than five years of Akaashi’s presence in your life into two suitcases and a spare box. Bokuto cries with you, but you find yourself crying harder because you know he’s just hurting _for the both of you._

“Please don’t hate each other.” Bokuto tells you as you watch him shut the trunk of his car. You assure him that you won’t with a smile, and you’re confident in your answer because you could never truly hate Akaashi.

Perhaps the past few years had just been borrowed time you two scraped for each other to look past the inevitable—but you know that’s just how it is. There’s a void past the _inevitable_ , and the timer that rings is never a second late. And maybe, there’s a story to be written for the both of you at some point in time—and maybe the two of you could cross paths again as different people, in this life, or the next and fall in love _in the present_ this time. But for now, you slide the ring off your finger and tell Bokuto to give it to him.

You walk back in an emptier apartment and laugh at irony as the timer for your cake dings. _It’s finished,_ you thought—and you don’t know whether you mean the cake or Akaashi.

And you feel yourself tearing up again upon feeling the space where the ring used to lay on your finger, because if you close your eyes you can just pretend that Akaashi was still at work and he’d be home in a few hours—but the room suddenly smells like fresh chocolate and warmth, and despite the absence, _his absence,_ you feel at home.

-

You knew he left for Spain two weeks after your last encounter with him, but the two of you kept in contact for some time after. It wasn’t a good idea, your friends often chastised you, but you waved them off anyway. Neither of you were pushing the other to get back together, but you suppose after being with him for more than half a decade, it was natural that a connection as deep as the one the two of you shared wouldn’t be erased so quickly.

The following year of his departure on your birthday specifically, he texted you a greeting followed up by a comment that he was drinking in your honor tonight. You, a little drunk, and a _little_ sad that night, say thank you and try to strike a conversation with him that went past the usual _“how are yous” and “hope you’re doing well”_ that neither of you crossed.

You try to ignore the sting when you don’t wake up to a reply the next morning, the morning _after_ that—or ever.

-

_Four years later. (Present)_

Akaashi Keiji supposes he doesn’t regret the time he spent with you. So, when he finally settles on asking you how you’re doing—he smiles because you reply that you’re doing just fine. And the ring on your finger doesn’t fly past his line of vision, because he suddenly feels the lump in his throat again.

“Four years in Spain, huh?” You ask, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. Extended a year, I might be permanently transferring there in the future.” He replies, and this time he looks straight towards you and not at the wall behind you.

You smile. _She looks happy,_ Akaashi thinks.

“You went out of schedule.” You laugh softly.

“I guess I did.” Akaashi replies, laughing along to the irony of your words, and finally says, “I’m sorry, (y/n).”

“Don’t be.” You reply, reaching forward and taking his hands into yours. “I’m proud of everything that you’ve done, Kei.” And he smiles at your words that has you smiling too—because it’s the smile he wore in Nara years ago.

“I’m always going to be proud of you.” You reaffirm, looking at him.

“Same here, (y/n).” He says and stares back at you because he notices the smile you’re wearing mirrors the smile on your face from Nara too.

 _You’re happy_ , he thinks.

 _He’s finally where he wants to be_ , you think too.

“So, Bokuto-san told me you’re engaged.” Akaashi says, lifting his cup to take a sip— and you pause first, because you think you smell a hint of caramel from his cup, but continue, “Married, actually. His name is Osamu, his twin brother plays in the team Bo plays in.”

You watch Akaashi nod at your words instead of verbally replying, so you add, “I would have loved if you made it to the wedding but, we weren’t in contact anymore, so—“

“It’s okay!” He says, a teasing tilt to his voice, “I feel like your husband wouldn’t be too comfortable if your ex was at your wedding.” 

“He’s not like that, Keiji.” You laugh, “Samu understands that you’re someone extremely special to me.”

“That’s good. Congrats on the bakery, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You exclaim, and he notes that your eyes are sparkling like it did in Nara. “They said it’s weird because Samu has his onigiri shop right across the street, but we think it’s pretty cute that we own our own thing right across each other.”

Akaashi hears you tell him the address of the shops you and Osamu own, and he nods along, letting you type your contact details onto his phone.

“Oh, Samu’s here, and we need to check with the doctor today for the baby—“ he pauses, looking at you, “—but we can catch up anytime you’re free! Bo and Atsumu said they wanted to host a victory party for their win last week, so I bet we’d see each other there.”

Akaashi remains in his seat even as you stand up in front of him, hoisting your bag on your shoulder and buttoning up your coat. It takes him a while to notice the bump you have.

“Congratulations, (y/n).” And he sounds a little breathless.

You hold your arm out for a handshake, but he stands up and wraps you in an embrace, his thoughts still drifting from the weight your presence has held him in.

“Thank you, Kei.” You say softly, patting his back, and his heart constricts at the familiar nickname.

“See you soon.” He replies, and you smile before walking towards the door.

And it’s a little _funny_ he thinks—because four years ago he was the first one to look away, and the first one to leave the room. So looking at you now as you make your way out of the door and into the streets of Shibuya, looping your arms with a man who he assumes must be _Miya Osamu,_ he can’t help but fiddle with the ring hidden in his coat pocket and think of the thoughts that must have been running through _your_ head when he was the first to leave.

But he isn’t angry, he realizes. He isn’t _hurt_ , he decides, but every what if is suddenly swimming in his head that he can’t hold himself back from sighing out loud and burying his face in the palms of his hands.

And it’s all kind of ironic now, he laughs to himself while he fishes out his wallet and looks at the polaroid of the two of you in Nara he found in his luggage years ago. The photo is tucked into front pocket of his wallet and that snapshot of a world where you loved one another stared back at him. His eyebrows furrow at the smudge in _your_ corner of the photo and wonder how it even got there. 

Was he really the _first_ to _walk away?_ Akaashi begins to think, when he looks out the window and watches the two of you.

He begins to doubt the thoughts in his head, because the breakup _had_ been mutual. Then as he watches you smile and peck Osamu’s lips he sighs—because his thoughts did hold some semblance of truth in them.

Akaashi _had been_ the first to walk away—but on the other hand, you were just the first to _move forward._

Though Akaashi supposes he can never regret the time he spent with you, or the decisions the both of you made to lead to this moment because you’re smiling in the way you smiled in Nara, and you’re glowing in a way he knows he could have never brought out in you.

So when you and Osamu turn the corner and disappear from his sight, Akaashi closes his eyes at the smell of the fresh chocolate cake wafting in the air and pretends that he’s in his apartment, from four years ago, just coming home from work.

And he feels warm, so in that in between he supposes he feels at home.


	2. maybe we could have been it (extra)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> akaashi thinks of you, the faded photograph next to the ring with the bigger stone he didn’t need to spend a couple paychecks on, and the chocolate cake that reminded him of home. of you.

sometimes, akaashi thinks, he kind of wants to do something stupid. 

he knows that if he really looks at things, it’s only just a matter of closing a notebook, ripping off a few pages, booking a ticket, and betting on adrenaline to give him the five second boost he needs to call up bokuto and ask for your address to fix things. 

but that isn’t the case, and the adrenaline is only waist level at best. akaashi knows he isn’t overwhelmed enough to pick up the phone and dial a familiar set of numbers. even when he does get to that point, adrenaline rises only towards chest level. he can still _breathe_ , and with that breath akaashi knows his actions at this point will still be guided by _reason._

so even if bokuto’s asking him if he’s heard from you lately, and the question of “ _how is she?”_ is at the tip of his tongue, when akaashi shifts he feels the water sway around his chest while the horizon before him is as clear as day. 

in the moment, he’s aware that if he stays and lets the waves rise, he’ll drown if he goes under. neither the rush nor adrenaline holds him under, and akaashi, in a way both dreads and praises the fact that his head is still above the water.

his fingers pause in place, and he thinks of the polaroid of you, the ring, and nara in his wallet. 

then he breathes, and it kind of aches, but he can still breathe. 

_he can still reason._

his heart clenches and he tries to tell himself it’s because of the nerves and the almost slip up of his crafted composure, and not because his heart is screaming for you.

bokuto stays silent on the line, so akaashi knows his clock is ticking. 

so “no,” akaashi would be the words he always hears himself reply, and he’d swallow the question he’s tried asking time and time again for months now back down just like that. “i haven’t heard from her.”

“that’s okay,” is the reply he gets, and from the tone of bokuto’s voice, akaashi knows there wouldn’t be an extension offered for the conversation. sometimes he thinks that if the world were to throw a lifeline at him, he would ignore rationality and ask for you. 

because for a while, he looked and listened for one. he looked at your profile, and counted the days where you were last active. listened for bokuto’s voice just with a bit more attention whenever he’d mention your name, and what you’ve been doing. 

just that lifeline, akaashi thinks to himself every time. if the world, or in this case, you, were to give him just that, he’d be on the next flight back to tokyo. 

then the world gave you happiness, he realizes. 

happiness that was manifested in the form of miya osamu, a few kind words that sent a tidal wave of everything good your way, and a bakery with your recipes right across the onigiri shop you found home in. 

the silence that follows, akaashi notes, is the kind that stretches like from the night that started your end.

because perhaps it was just borrowed time. 

the love between the both of you was as real as life, but a forever wasn’t guaranteed with just love and hope as armor. the reality of the fall out, had been there all along, akaashi realizes. initially it was a little hard to face, but he supposes that it’s difficult because it _truly_ was love at its purest form. 

love, in accordance to your story, had always been just an emotion that’s raw and so, _so_ unapologetically beautiful to the point that it tore you open when reality came and announced how love alone wasn’t enough to satiate the way of the world.

so akaashi cries that night he finds miya osamu’s name, because like the heartbreak he felt when he parted with you, the emotion that announced its arrival in the moment, he realizes, is killing him all the same.

his finger hovers over the send button on the right side of his phone screen, right next to the _congratulations_ that took a couple shots of the strong kind of liquor to type out. the faded photograph with the two people smiling in nara sits on the table next to the ring he finally bought without having to blow a couple of paychecks.

he knows that there’s no one to blame, so he downs another shot—squeezing his eyes at the burn that he tells himself he welcomes on the back of his throat.

the chocolate cake in spain doesn’t taste anything like yours, he smiles to himself. when akaashi closes his eyes, more tears prick at his eyes when he hears your voice muffled by the walls that separated the kitchen in the apartment from his office.

and perhaps that was already a way the universe foreshadowed the inevitable end of love, for the both of you. another shot downed, but despite the burn still present in his throat, he grabs the bottle and pours himself another. a couple smiles still stare at him, _faded,_ from the photograph akaashi keeps his eyes trained at.

 _you probably smiled in the kitchen that day,_ akaashi thinks to himself. eyes sparkling, tongue poking out in concentration, and a radiance that hung around you because he _knows_ that during the last few months of the relationship, that was really the only time he saw you _blooming._

he hears your voice again, but he doesn’t make out what you say; he finds himself wincing at the realization that recalls the words written in his contract vividly instead.

that night akaashi keiji downs almost seven shots because it _finally_ dawns on him that all this time he’s only been hearing you, and never took the time to _listen._

so, _congratulations,_ the screen on his phone reads, but even with the liquid confidence setting fire to his veins in the moment, he takes his phone in his hands and deletes the message instead. smiling at the chocolate cake in front of him, he foregoes the eighth shot in his glass, and takes a bite from the slice instead.

if he were a little more sober, akaashi knows he’d have wiped his face from the tears by now, but all he registers is the thought that he thinks he’s crying, because somewhere between the second and the third bite, he suddenly sees you; apron around your waist, oven mitts that looked a little too silly on your hands, and a bit of frosting that he remembers always found its way on your cheek no matter how careful you were in the process.

 _it doesn’t taste the same,_ he cries, but then cries harder because he doesn’t remember how your recipe even tasted in the first place.

but the smell of chocolate lingers in the _fucking air,_ and if he closes his eyes he knows he’s going to think of home, and of _you._

 _you,_ an apartment that was home for so many years, and a love that was kept alive because of borrowed time.

 _this it it,_ akaashi thinks, the smell of chocolate right under his nose.

 _this was home,_ he heaves, dropping the fork and hiding his face in his hands when the weight of the ending finally settles on his shoulders.

_you were home, and you were love._

he cries harder, sounding a little more broken. the photograph remains still in its time; the people with the smiles changed, and the memory of nara remembered with a different kind of sentiment now.

so that night, akaashi turns off his phone, caps the bottle, pockets the photo and the ring, and gives the rest of the cake to his neighbor’s son who he remembered has a bit of a sweet tooth. he lays in bed with the image of you, a ring that didn’t look like the one hidden in his drawer, and the radiance he feels is now connected to the name _miya osamu._

then he books a ticket.

a one way ticket headed to tokyo, because akaashi keiji supposes he doesn’t regret the time he spent with you.

so, when he finally settles on asking you how you’re doing—he smiles because you reply that you’re doing just fine. and the ring on your finger doesn’t fly past his line of vision, because he suddenly feels the lump in his throat again.

“four years in spain, huh?” you ask, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“yeah. extended a year, i might be permanently transferring there in the future,” he replies, a statement he knows is only a lie, and this time he looks straight towards you and not at the wall behind you.

you smile. 

_and you look happy_ , akaashi thinks.

“you went out of schedule,” he hears you laugh softly.

“i guess i did,” akaashi replies, laughing along to the irony of your words, before he finally says, “i’m sorry.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> ily thank u for reading this crumb of my heart c:


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